


Red Tie

by totalizzyness



Series: 00Q Prompts [21]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, PWP, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totalizzyness/pseuds/totalizzyness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon asked for a sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/577623"><i>Passing The Time</i></a><br/>--<br/><i>“I do hope it will be an apt replacement. Real silk, it shouldn’t chafe too much, but we can’t know for certain.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Tie

Bond was back. Q had been anticipating his return eagerly, hardly able to sleep, instead running errands. He was three floors up being debriefed, then he’d take quick trip down to medical for a check-up despite returning relatively unscathed — Q liked to think it was his reassuring voice in his ear that kept Bond out of trouble — and then… Then he’d come down to Q branch. To Q’s office. Q was waiting for him.  
  
Looking over to his laptop, Q saw Bond leave Mallory’s office through his CCTV feed. Bond walked with his confident swagger, through the corridors, taking the stairs down to medical. Q estimated he had roughly ten minutes before Bond came to claim what was his; he had ten minutes to cut off the security feed to his office and put in place a detour for anyone needing his attention for the next hour. There was no way his attention would be focused on anything but Bond.  
  
One more glance to his screen confirmed Bond was on his way. Even in the low quality CCTV footage Q could make out Bond’s hungry look in his eyes, noticing the way his fists were clenched by his side.

Bond stormed in to Q’s office, the door almost slamming against the wall. Q smirked, reaching into his top drawer.

“Double-oh-seven.”

Bond stalked over to the desk, his eyes almost burning holes in to Q’s skin. “Q. I hope you have something for me.”

“Indeed I do,” Q purred, pushing himself around to the other side of his desk, presenting a small box to the agent. Bond smirked, opening the box, pulling out a red tie.

“Nice.”

“I do hope it will be an apt replacement. Real silk, it shouldn’t chafe too much, but we can’t know for certain.”

Bond wrapped the tie around his hand, staring at it analytically, rubbing a thumb over the material. “I think this shall do nicely.”

Q smiled, leaning back against the desk, putting the box down. “So… are you going to stare at that all day or are you going to put it to use?”

Bond glanced up, quirking a quick smile before lunging at Q, grabbing his face roughly and mashed their lips together. Q grunted, his hands flying up to grip onto Bond’s jacket lapels, holding their bodies close. He could feel the material of the tie rub against his cheek, groaning in to Bond’s mouth as he could feel his length strain against his trousers. Bond roughly manhandled Q around the desk, his fingers expertly running over his front, unzipping his cardigan, yanking his tie free and throwing it to the ground, unbuttoning his shirt. The fabric was pushed apart, revealing Q’s expanse of pale skin; Bond groaned, curling a hand around his ribcage, rubbing his thumb against his nipple, making Q arch in to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bond muttered, taking Q’s hands from his jacket and holding them behind his back with ease, whilst he unravelled the tie. Q let out a quiet moan, resting his forehead against Bond’s shoulder as he felt the silk slip around his wrists. Bond was startlingly gentle as he thread the tie around Q’s boney wrists, looping the fabric before yanking hard. Q groaned, his eyes scrunching shut at the sudden burn as the tie bit into his skin.

“One shouldn’t sing one’s own praise, but I’m very good at knots, Q,” Bond murmured, Q whimpering as Bond’s warm breath tickled his ear. “You shan’t be escaping any time soon.”

Q gasped when he felt Bond’s teeth graze his earlobe, his fingers flexing to keep blood flowing. “Good.”

“You’re mine, Q.”

“I’m completely yours.”

“Now be a good boy and sit down.” Bond gently pushed Q backwards until the back of his knees hit his chair, gingerly sitting himself down. “Do you remember what I told you? What I said I’d do to you?”

Q groaned happily, flicking his gaze up to meet Bond’s. “God yes.”

Bond carefully slipped Q’s glasses from his face, carefully putting them on the desk behind him before gently stroking a hand over his face. Softly tracing his fingertips over Q’s cheek, Q’s eyes fluttering closed — there was no use keeping them open, Bond was just a blur to him now. His lips parted when he felt a finger trace over his bottom lip, Bond humming happily.

The hand suddenly left his face, Q could hear a belt unbuckle, the obvious rasp of a zip being undone. Q’s breath caught in his throat, anticipating what was coming. He heard Bond let out a quiet groan, his hand finding it’s place back on Q’s cheek. His thumb began rubbing Q’s lips, his mouth instinctively opening a little wider. Bond pushed just the tip of his thumb in to the quartermaster’s mouth, smirking when he felt his tongue flick against it. He pulled gently on Q’s jaw, easing his mouth open a little wider. 

Q breathed steadily through his nose, waiting. He let out a quiet whimper when he felt the tip of Bond’s cock rub against his bottom lip, hearing the agent’s breathing get a little heavier when he flicking his tongue over the slit. Bond pulled his mouth open a little wider before pushing in, Q’s lips clamping around the head.

“Jesus, Q.”

Q moaned in response, suckling at licking at the head, pulling quiet grunts from the man stood over him. Bond pushed a hand through Q’s hair, pushing it back from his face and cradling the back of his head. He groaned, pushing on the back of Q’s head, forcing him closer, watching more and more of him slowly disappear into the younger man’s mouth. He stopped when he bumped against the back of Q’s throat, not wanting to force him into too much too soon. Q instantly set to work, sucking and laving his tongue against the underside of Bond’s cock, swallowing around the head. Bond groaned, fisting his hand in Q’s hair, trailing his other down Q’s neck, thumb brushing over his pulse.

Grabbing a fistful of Q’s hair, Bond began pulling him off his cock, pushing back in when just the tip was left in. Q groaned when he hit the back of his throat, Bond pulling out and pushing back in again and again. He sucked and lapped at Bond’s length, letting out groans and whimpers as his mouth was used.

Bond suddenly pulled away, his hand still fisted in Q’s hair. “Fuck, Q… Stand up.”

With Bond’s help, Q got to his feet, cracking his eyes open so he didn’t get disoriented. He could barely make out Bond’s figure as he was grabbed roughly, and forced up against his desk. He let out a grunt as the desk-top connected with his stomach, Bond pushing their bodies, front to back. His shirt was pushed from his shoulder, exposing the pale skin to the cool air. Bond sank his teeth into the flesh, sucking and laving at it with his tongue. Q arched back in to Bond, groaning loudly.

Bond thrust up against Q’s back, in to his pliant hands, still sucking painful bruises into the skin of his neck and collar, staking his claim on the quartermaster, his fingers digging in to his hips. Q curled his fingers around Bond’s cock, resting his head back on his shoulder, offering more skin for him to mark.

“Have you got anything?” Bond grunted, trailing a hand up Q’s neck, tweaking his nipple. Q let out a loud gasp.

“A double-oh agent unprepared?”

Bond smirked, nipping at Q’s neck sharply. “I usually get all my toys from my quartermaster.”

“Middle drawer.”

Bond looked down at the desk, going to reach for the drawer, before pulling back. “The one with the keypad lock?”

Q ground himself back against Bond, giving his length a gentle squeeze. “Three digit numerical code; I know your brain is lacking in blood but I’m sure you can work it out.”

Bond chuckled, keying in 0-0-7, not surprised when he heard the lock click and the tiny red LED turned green. He pulled the drawer open, smirking at the strip of condoms and lube lying in the bottom.

“Planning this, were you?”

“It was a joint decision Bond, don’t play coy.”

Bond pulled them out, dropping them onto the desk beside Q, reaching around his front to fumble with his fly. Q let out a low moan when his erection was finally pulled free, bucking into Bond’s hand.

“Are you ready for me to own you?” Bond purred, palming Q’s arse, thrusting gently against it. Q let out a sharp grunt as he was jammed against the desk, his forehead dropping onto the wood.

“I do hope you’re not all talk, Bond.”

Bond smirked, snatching the lube from the desk, flicking the cap open. “We’ll see then, won’t we,” he said, nibbling gently on Q’s earlobe, squirting plenty of the liquid onto his fingers. Q groaned loudly, his head thunking back down on the desk when he felt Bond’s fingers probe at his hole.

“Just do it,” he choked, trying to push back. Bond hushed him, sucking another bruising mark to Q’s back, before pushing in with one finger. Q let out a loud, gutteral groan, biting his bottom lip hard enough to break the skin. Bond smirked, pushing in further, twisting, rubbing, relishing the quiet noises he pulled from the quartermaster. Q pushed back against Bond,  mumbling sounds of encouragement.

“You’re so good, Q,” Bond muttered, pulling out and pushing back in with two fingers, covering Q’s back with his own body. Q moaned, arching back into Bond’s chest. Bond pinned Q down on the desk, stopping any of his movements, continuing pushing his fingers in and out, crooking them in just the right place to make Q shudder beneath him.

“Have I proved myself yet?”

Q grunted, trying to flex his arms. “Not just yet, Bond.”

“Are you ready now or would you like another?”

“I’m getting a say in this?”

Bond chuckled, reaching for the strip of condoms. “You raise a good point, I do hope you’re ready.”

“Get on with it, Mr Bond, I’m getting bored and my arms are getting numb.”

“So pushy,” Bond chuckled, pulling his fingers from Q, smirking at the quiet noise he made at the loss. Whilst his body wasn’t being pinned to the table, Q flexed his muscles, ensuring his blood was still flowing down to his fingers and not stopping at his wrists.

“I was promised a good fuck and I’ve yet to get it. I’m sure you’d be pushy too if the roles were reversed.”  
  
“The roles will never be reversed, I assure you,” Bond sighed, pressing himself up against Q’s back again.  
  
“Oh yes, of course, because taking it up the arse is emasculating, and you’re all man.”  
  
In lieu of replying, Bond pushed in, roughly. Q let out a loud groan, loud enough to let people outside the office know what was going on inside — if the walls weren’t soundproofed. Bond paused for a moment, letting Q get used to the feel of him inside before slowly beginning to pull out, thrusting back in, quickly finding a harsh pace. Q grunted and squirmed, trying to push back as much as he could, to meet Bond on every thrust.  
  
“Did you know you have back dimples?” Bond smirked, pushing himself up so he wasn’t bent over Q. He curled a hand around his hip, digging his fingers into the skin, and held on to the bonds around Q’s wrists, using that for leverage instead of his own thrusting.  
  
“It’s been brought to my attention,” Q gasped, trying to grasp at Bond’s wrist. “You’re not the first person to do this to me… well… not this specifically.”  
  
Bond grunted, thrusting in again even harder, enjoying the low moan from the man writhing beneath him. His new position made it easier for Bond to push and pull Q how he wanted, thrusting in harder, finding the spot inside the quartermaster that would ruin him completely quicker. The room was filled with the noises of both men grunting and moaning and mumbling curse words, the sounds of their skin slapping together.  
  
Q suddenly let out a low howl, his back arching as Bond continued thrusting inside him. “Bond please. Need to… Need…”  
  
Bond plastered his front against Q’s back, sucking more marks in to Q’s shoulder. “Come on, Q…” He pried his fingers from around Q’s hip, reaching around to curl them around Q’s erection. Q gasped, bucking forward into Bond’s hand. Bond gave Q’s cock a few sharp tugs before he was howling and coming, grinding his forehead against the desk. Bond’s hips stuttered as he continued thrusting, letting out a low groan as his own orgasm was pulled out of him. Q continued whimpering beneath him as Bond emptied himself into the condom, biting down on Q’s shoulder.

They lay slumped over the desk, panting heavily, their sweat mingling, soaking their shirts, sticking them to their skin. Q finally cracked his eyes open, tipping his head back to look at Bond.

“I’d say nine out of ten,” Q smirked wriggling against Bond. Bond growled quietly, mashing their lips together despite the awkward angle.

“Just nine?”

Q chuckled. “My hips hurt from where you jammed them in to my desk.”

“Collateral damage.”

Bond finally pulled back, peeling the condom off and dropping it into the bin, before sorting himself out. Q glared at him from where he was still slumped over the desk.

“Fancy lending a hand?”

Bond smirked, quickly untying the knot and slumping down in Q’s chair. Despite the state of himself — rumpled clothing, come up his stomach and leaking from his softening cock — he managed to tidy himself up with an air of dignity, shooting quick smirks at Bond. 

Bond had just straightened his cuffs when Q plopped himself down in his lap, running his fingers through Bond’s hair. “I don’t suppose you’ll be ready to go again anytime soon, in your old age?”

“You’re a cheeky little shit,” Bond chuckled, snaking an arm around Q’s waist, pulling him closer.

“No worries, I can wait. I don’t suppose you perform any better in a bed?”

“Much better.”

Q chuckled, cupping Bond’s face in his palm, pulling him into a gentle kiss, smiling brilliantly at the agent when they pulled away. Bond smiled back, giving Q a soft squeeze.

“You look good without glasses, you look older.”

Q smiled. “I’ll take your preferences under advisement, so long as I get something from you.”

“Anything.”


End file.
